


Dinner Party Murder

by mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110



Series: TharnType Needs More Mpreg [3]
Category: TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Angry Type, Attempt at Humor, Cute, Cute Type, Domestic Fluff, Don't Like Don't Read, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Husbands, Jealousy, M/M, Married Life, Mpreg, Pregnant Type, Protective Tharn, Tharn is a sweetheart, The Author Regrets Nothing, cute husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110/pseuds/mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110
Summary: Type finds out nothing.He's just shown what he already knows. P'San is an unmittagated asshole. Tharn is no help. And if he doesn't find some way to survive this dinner he will be leaving a murderer.He swears it's all under control.It isn't.///Continuation requested by my lovely readers, special shout out to Sapphyrelight for requesting this prompt specifically. Thank you for reading. <3
Relationships: Tharn Kirigun/Type (TharnType)
Series: TharnType Needs More Mpreg [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665016
Comments: 49
Kudos: 343





	Dinner Party Murder

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I would like to preface this by saying I don't hate P'San as a character. Someone had to be the villain lol.
> 
> Don't hate me?
> 
> Enjoy!

"There," Type said proudly as he set the last glass of wine down on their perfectly set table. "Now for the poison."

"No you don't!" Tharn caught Type by the waist as he tried to slip back into the kitchen. "We will wait,” He kissed Type’s hair, “like good hosts,” he kissed his cheek, “in the living room for P'San."

Type pushed Tharn off of him and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Say his name one more time…"

Tharn almost laughed. "What? But he's coming to dinner tonight. How am I supposed to not say his name?"

Type shrugged. "Figure it out." Then he walked to the living room calmly.

Tharn was about to follow him, protesting the notion of not being allowed to say their guests name while said guest was visiting them, when a crisp knock on the door sounded. Type froze. He turned around to face Tharn, who looked more nervous than ever.

"You or me?" Type asked.

"Me!" Tharn instantly answered in a short panic. Type couldn't really put his hands on his hips so he rested them on his bump, pursing his lips, as he nodded. Tharn cleared his throat and spoke again, more calmly. "Me. I'll- I'll go get the door. I think...that would be best."

Type rolled his eyes and went over to the door instead. When Tharn moved to follow him, Type stopped him.

"Stay." Tharn held back. "Don't go dying without me."

Tharn chuckled nervously as he waved Type off. "Of course."

Type walked over to open the door, and Tharn went back to the dining room to make sure everything really was ready, and not poisoned.

Type put on his best unimpressed, bitch face as he opened the door.

"P'San." Type greeted with a single nod.

P'San seemed surprised that Type's was the face that greeted him. He smiled warmly anyhow taking all of Type in before him.

Type was wearing a shirt that was clearly Tharn's. A simple black sweater, that fell well below his waist line, that was tied how he liked it with a light pink ribbon. There was a bow in the back, as always, because Tharn was in charge of tying his ribbons. And Tharn's light colored jean jacket thrown over. That together with his own black tights and comfortable house slippers and Type very honestly looked amazing. Pregnancy looked good on him.

"N'Type!" P'San smiled evilly. At least, Type was sure it was evil. "You look well, I'm glad to say. Congratulations on the baby."

Type internally rolled his eyes. "Thank you."

"Do you know the gender yet?" P'San asked.

Type shook his head. "Not yet but we've scheduled a date for the ultrasound. We think we'll know then."

"Well that's good. That's good." P'San nodded.

Type gestured to the bag in P'San's hands with a small nod. "Where should I tell Tharn to put this?"

"Oh, forgive me," P'San chuckled evilly. He stepped up to hand the gift to Type. "That's actually for you."

Type accepted it cautiously. "Again, thank you."

"It's no problem at all." P'San smiled evilly. "It was the least I could do."

Type nodded and stared up and up at P'San. It was too bad he hadn't shrunken since Type last saw him. He really thought he might've been exaggerating San's height in his head but nope. He was still tall. Still handsome. Type hated his stupid face.

P'San sort of stood awkwardly as Type purposely didn't move from the door. He looked around a little before finally asking. "Um can I come in?"

Type laughed. "If you have to."

Then he backed away and stepped aside to let P'San in.

P'San laughed at Type's not-joke. "Glad to see you haven't changed N'Type."

Type nodded. "I like to think I've improved since we last spoke."

"Yes?" P'San questioned.

"I've improved my cooking skills, actually." Type said, leading P'San to the dining room.

P'San nodded, but looked like he was concealing something, he tried to look distracted as he took a look around their foyer. "Oh."

"Yeah I'm _really_ good with a knife now." Type smiled, though he knew P'San couldn't see him.

P'San coughed. "Is that so?"

Type turned around before they entered the dining room. "Yes." He said with a serious expression.

P'San looked evilly worried for a split second before he covered it up with a nervous smile and a nod. "Good."

"This way." Type said sweetly.

He let P'San step in first before he followed behind.

Tharn greeted them at the entrance giving P'San a warm smile and a hug. "It's good to see you, P'."

P'San accepted the hug for much longer than he should have, in Type's opinion, and smiled back. Evilly. "You too, Tharn. You look," he proceeded to piss Type off royally by taking a generous eyeful of Tharn, "you look amazing," he smiled. "As usual."

Type perked up by saying, "I'm going to set this in the living room, I'll be right back." He held up P'San's live grenade- I mean, gift.

"Oh P'," Tharn gave an embarrassed smile to P'San. "You really didn't have to get us anything."

"Nonsense." P'San waved him off. "I wanted to."

"I feel bad." Tharn rubbed the back of his head.

Stupid idiot didn't know how endearing he looked right now.

"Don't feel bad, Tharn." He set a hand that did not have permission on Tharn's shoulder. _Evilly._ "You're having a baby. The least I could do was spoil you guys a little bit."

"Thank you!" Type said loudly. "For the gift. Really. It was so thoughtful of you." Type handed it over to Tharn. "Why don't you put it away instead, Tharn? You'll find a good place for it I'm sure."

"Okay, yeah." Tharn took the gift and P'San took his unwelcome hand off of Tharn's shoulder. "I'll be right back," he kissed Type's head and looked to both of them, but mostly to Type as he left, "play nice you two." He kind of joked, kind of meant seriously.

Type waited till Tharn was gone before he gestured to their table. "Please, have a seat."

Tharn had made Type promise to arrange the table with him at the head of the table, so he would be between them. While Type sat on his right and P'San to his left. He had figured there would be less blood this way.

So they sat across from each other like so.

They kind of just didn't talk. At all. 

Mostly because Type refused to start any sort of conversation with him and partly because P'San didn't know what to say.

"So dinner looks good." P'San complimented just to have something to say.

"Thanks." Type nodded. "Tharn made it."

P'San quirked an eyebrow. "But I thought you said that you cooked?"

Type hummed, taking a sip of water. "He insisted."

And he had. Everytime Tharn had walked in on Type planning dinner, Type would turn to him and ask what P'San hated food-wise. He also worryingly stocked them with rat poison claiming that they would never know when they'd need to use it to get rid of unwanted pests.

In the end, Tharn forced Type out of the kitchen, too worried for everyone's safety.

"I have to say P'San," Type said just as Tharn had reentered, "Tharn and I were just talking about that first time you and I met," Type's smile tightened, "and, now I'm sure we lost it in the move somewhere, but the thought had occurred to me that we never received your apology letter?"

Tharn whispered quietly as he sat down. "Ai'Type."

"Oh there must be a huge misunderstanding, then." P'San easily supplied. He also took a sip of his wine. "You see, I never wrote an apology letter." He smirked, full teeth, at Type. Now _that_ was an evil grin if he ever saw one.

Type's blood boiled. He had given this asshole the opportunity to try and right his wrong and instead he was _mocking_ him? Oh this means war, fuckface.

"You don't say." Type bit out harshly.

"Let's eat!" Tharn nervously laughed, changing the subject.

Type watched with his best glare for a few moments before going into his food. It was really good, Tharn had done a good job.

"My compliments to the chef." P'San said smoothly to Tharn.

Tharn chuckled and shyly looked away from him. "No, P', it's like my third attempt cooking, I tried my best."

"Well it's delicious." P'San continued.

Type felt like throwing up. And he was already over his morning sickness, so.

Tharn and P'San start regular conversation while Type figures it's best for him to sit back and listen. He'd rather jump in whenever P'San takes something too far than actively take part in a conversation with him.

It also hasn't gone unnoticed by Type that Tharn has yet to say P'San's name this evening. It gives him immense pleasure knowing Tharn was actually listening to him and still trying to make him happy. Good husband.

"Ai'Type are you okay?" Tharn and P'San suddenly both have their attention on him.

"What?" Type looked to both of them. "I'm fine? Why?"

Tharn looked at Type's plate. And Type looked too. Well shit. It wasn't empty. See, thanks to the baby eating absolutely everything Type puts in his stomach, Type is always, always, _always_ starving. Everytime they eat, he goes back for three helpings at the very least.

Tharn knows that Type should have cleared his entire plate by now. Fuck. He was too distracted at complimenting Tharn in his head. Stupid husband. Also stupid P'San just for good measure.

Type gives Tharn a look of recognition and shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. I promise."

Tharn looked at him earnestly, resting his hand to comfort Type's thigh, rubbing it gently. "Are you sure?"

Type smiles softly and if he would have remembered that P'San was there, watching them still, he would never have shown him how he smiles at Tharn when they're alone, but Tharn was too sweet. "Ai'Shit Tharn." Type said softly. "I promise I'm fine."

Tharn leaned in with a smile. "You've promised." Type nodded.

"Ai'Tharn's right, N'Type." P'San record scratches their moment into a thousand ruined vinyl.

Type looks back at him with a blank expression, he can read the foreign concern that's so obvious on his face. Also who gave him permission to call him N'Type? Why has he been calling him N'Type?

"You haven't been eating very much." He lifts his fork with a piece of chicken, but stops just before he eats it and smiles evilly. "Are you trying to," he gives Type's whole body a look up and down, "watch your weight?"

Type slams his fork down. " _Excuse_ you?"

"P'San." Tharn warned harshly, turning over to his old friend, frowning.

P'San shrugs while he takes his bite.

How _fucking_ dare he? Type was already really self-conscious about his weight, he didn't need this bullshit coming into his house, eating the food his husband prepared, just to call him _fat_ at his own table.

"Are you fucking serious?" Type questioned.

Tharn looked over to him with a halfway 'don't do this,' halfway 'I'm sorry about him' warning/worried expression. "Type." Tharn gritted out.

"You do realize that I'm six and a half months fucking pregnant right?" Type rests his hands on his bump. " _This_ is not an accessory for you to insult." Then it hits him. P'San wasn't just calling him fat, something that he already worried about, he was also insulting the baby. His child. _His child._ Oh _fuck_ no. "Or can you not get that through your thick head?"

P'San laughs in surprise. Tharn leans forward heavily. "Ai'Type!"

Type glares at him. How dare he not defend him right now. Sure, Tharn naturally wasn't a confrontational guy, and Type definitely was, but this was a special situation. Tharn could make the exception.

"It's okay Tharn. He's right." P'San spoke up. Type glowered at him. "He's right, I apologize." But he was still fucking smiling. "I overstepped my boundaries. I'm sorry." Type didn't say anything and he certainly didn't accept the apology.

"Actually I was trying to compliment you." Yeah fucking right. "You truly look," his snake eyes worked their way over Type again and he felt like shuddering, but you should never let your enemies see your weakness, so he stayed still.

"You look amazing. Really," Type...didn't believe him. Tharn always said he looked amazing pregnant but he didn't know what that was supposed to mean. "It makes me wonder what Tharn here would have looked like."

That makes Type's heart stutter. He drops his glare for pure confusion. "What?"

P'San shrugged innocently. "It makes me wonder what Tharn would have looked like."

Type looks over to Tharn, but he's clearly given up trying to delegate anything. He looks put off, like he did when Type first met P'San. 

At that restaurant. P'San kept describing Tharn letting them all know how much they knew each other. Pissing Type off. And Tharn just sat back and let him with this exact expression on his face. Something bad was coming. Now Type was worried.

"What do you mean? What does that mean?" Type asked quickly.

"What? Tharn hasn't told you?" Dejavu. Type has heard that before.

Type looked at Tharn, but Tharn wasn't looking at either of them.

"Hasn't told me what?" Type asked.

P'San seemed all too delighted with this situation. "Well exactly what I mean, of course. Tharn has the Washington gene."

Type's world goes on tilt. " _What_?"

"He really didn't tell you?" P'San seemed surprised but Type didn't give a shit anymore. Tharn could get pregnant? Tharn had the Washington gene? "Yeah, Thorn, Tharn, and I all found out together a while back. Sometime after Tharn turned 16. Seeing you now makes me wonder what Tharn would look like pregnant." P'San gives Tharn a far off expression that Type _hates._

He can feel his limbs anymore. He's so thrown. He just wants out. He wants out of here. But P'San is still talking. "I bet you would look so beautiful Tharn. If only," he scoots ever closer to Tharn, no one in the room misses it, "you had someone willing to do that for you--"

Type can't take it anymore. Not after _that_ comment. He pushes out his chair, slams his napkin down on the table and storms the fuck out of there. He feels so disgusted, and hurt, and pissed, above all, he's so fucking pissed.

"Ai'Type, wait." Tharn calls after him. "Wait! Type!" 

Type ignores him.

Type is so angry and hurt, he can feel the tears burning behind his eyes as he grits his teeth. He stomps his way upstairs, without Tharn to help him up, he uses the rail. When he makes it up, he instantly goes to their room slamming the door open and shut.

He first goes to their bathroom and grabs his things. Towel, toothbrush, and other such toiletries. Things he'll need for overnight.

When he's got his shit, he goes to the closet and grabs a pair of pajamas and a fresh change of clothes. Throwing shit everywhere. Tharn likes a clean space? Well fuck him.

Type finds his gear bag and packs it grabbing his phone and a charger before leaving the room. He sits and waits in the guest bedroom of the top floor.

He hears Tharn lead P'San out just a few minutes later. Then the large foyer door is shut and Type knows they're alone.

He hears Tharn sigh heavily in the big empty space before making his way upstairs. Type listens to the soft but sure footsteps of his husband as he makes his way upstairs. He almost wishes Tharn would go right to him to comfort him. Throw his arms around him and apologize. But he's more angry than melancholic, the angry side of him wants nothing to do with Tharn.

He hears Tharn knock on their bedroom door and call out his name. He pauses for a moment before he opens their door and goes in letting it fall shut with a soft click.

Type waits three seconds.

He gets his pregnant ass up off the guest room bed and out of the room itself. He sneaks down the hall, past their room and downstairs. He walks to the kitchen, grabs his keys out of the bowl and walks to the garage.

But he stops.

Just as he's about to open the garage door to leave for Techno's place for the night, something stops him. This urge. Pulling him back.

He can almost feel it tugging his shirt. Stopping him.

This, this leaving doesn't feel right. Not at all. Type is angry. So beyond angry, he can't even think. But he knows he needs to stay.

He turned around in their kitchen and looked at the place. Really looked. The ceiling, the stove, the fridge. His hands run over the marble countertop.

He and Tharn had argued for weeks over what kind of cabinets they'd have. And what color they'd be. They'd almost gotten into a fight over it but Tharn. Stupid, thoughtless, Tharn said he'd rather have ugly countertops that he hated for the rest of his life, than argue with Type.

Type hit him for that comment and in the end relented his opinion, saying that they would get Tharn's countertops. Tharn refused to let him, saying that they could just go with Type's countertops, and then they were arguing again but for each other.

In the end, Tharn got a home magazine. He said he would throw open the magazine and whatever model house it landed on that would be their kitchen. Type called him stupid and agreed.

And so they had white marble countertops with pink cabinets. _Pink._ Light pink cabinets. Type smiled to himself. It was one of his favorite rooms in the house.

He sighed heavily and put the keys back. Sobering back up to reality, he set the bag down and with no help from absolutely anyone, he shimmied his pregnant body up on top of the kitchen island. By himself. No help. Yeah, he was that awesome.

He slipped off his shoes and crossed his legs underneath him. Waiting for his husband.

It wasn't too much later when Type heard his name being called. Loudly and repeatedly. Each name call more frantic than the last.

Type heard Tharn running. Running all around the house, calling his name, desperately looking for him. He felt his phone vibrate in his hands and he cut off each call. Tharn would find him.

Finally after a few minutes of panic on Tharn's part, Tharn runs into the kitchen. He was instantly going for the key bowl but he froze when he saw Type sitting perfectly poised on the countertop.

"Ai'Type." Tharn sounded breathless.

Type shrugged. "You found me."

"I thought that you--" Tharn walked up to him. He didn't touch him, but he clearly wanted to. "That you--"

"I was going to." Type nodded. "There's my bag." He pointed to his gear bag on the floor. "But I didn't."

Tharn shook his head, inching closer, still not touching. "Why?"

"Because I had to." Type sighed. "If we were still dating, I would have left without a second thought. But, you're my husband Tharn. So. I'm gonna stay, we're gonna fight, and we're gonna talk through this afterwards."

Tharn sighed and slumped his shoulders. "Do we have to fight?"

"Well I know that I'm still very, _very_ mad at both you and P'San." Type crossed his arms. "And aren't you still mad at me?"

"No." Tharn shook his head. "No. I'm not mad. I promise I'm not mad at you."

"Why not?!" Type suddenly shouted. " _Be_ mad at me! I want to fight with you! _I'm_ mad! I disrespected your P'San, I behaved terribly at dinner. Get mad at me!" Type pushed Tharn back.

Tharn shook his head. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Argh!" Type growled pulled his own hair. "Stop being so perfect! Get mad at me." Type moved his hands from his hair to his face. "Yell at me back. Push me back!"

"No, Type." Tharn smiled.

Type glared at him. "Why not?!"

"Because you're right." Tharn took a step. "You're right to be angry at me and P'San. And I lied to you, I am angry too."

"Then prove it." Type hit him. "Yell at me."

"I'm not angry with you." Tharn said calmly. Type growled in frustration. "I'm angry at myself for letting things escalate too far." Type rolled his eyes. "And I'm angry at P'San."

Type scoffed. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better. I know you're not mad at him."

"No, Type. I am mad at him." Tharn's face looked serious. "The things he said were completely out of line. He went too far. I told him to apologize to you."

"Well don't hold your breath." Type shook his head. "Sorry to break it to you but your P' would never--"

"I told him if he didn't apologize to both of us by the end of the week," Tharn crossed his arms. "That I would never see him again."

Type looked at Tharn. He was still mad but damn. Type didn't think Tharn had it in him to be firm with P'San.

"I'm still mad at you." Type felt the need to say first.

Tharn nodded. "I know."

"You do realize that I'm _going_ to kill you." Type wanted to make sure.

Tharn took another step forward and smiled. "Yes."

"Shitty husband." Type smiled too, but he pushed it back. "You really thought a dinner with me and P'San would end differently than what just happened?"

Tharn shrugged guiltily. "I hoped."

"You're too naive." Type sighed. "Too innocent." He quirked his head with a slight nod. "And stupid."

Tharn snorted and took another step further. "May I hold you?" He whispered.

Type shook his head. "No."

"Please?" Tharn put his hands on either side of Type's legs, still not touching him. "I want to hold you, baby. I miss you."

"I never went anywhere." Type growled out. "Don't touch me."

Tharn leaned in close, his gaze lingered on Type's lips before looking earnestly into Type's eyes. "Please Type? Let me," he drew his hands in, they still weren't touching in any way. "Let me hold you. I want to hug my wife, Type. Please."

Type held his breath. Fuck Tharn sounded so amazing when he begged. Type couldn't resist. He had to but he couldn't.

"No." But it was small, desperate.

"Please, Ai'Type?" Tharn was holding back so much, Type could tell. "Let me hold my wife. And my baby. My beautiful family."

Type knew one of Tharn's favorite things to do was to run his protective hands over the baby bump. He couldn't resist it. Which is exactly what Type was going to make him do. Resist.

"Back up, Tharn." Tharn looked into Type's eyes, he was serious. Tharn leaned back some. "More." Type told him. Tharn whined but did it. "Take a step back, Tharn."

"Ai'Type." Tharn complained, but did so. His hands left the counter.

"This is your punishment." Type said with finality. "You're not allowed to touch me for 24 hours." He looked at the time, 9:26 pm. "Starting now." He showed Tharn his phone so Tharn would know the time.

Tharn looked at him wide eyed. "But- but Type!"

"No." Type said firmly. "Don't touch me for 24 hours, you don't have permission. Then I'll forgive you."

Tharn pouted. "Ai'Type."

"Shut up, I need to concentrate." Type said seriously. He scooted closer to the edge of the counter and uncrossed his legs.

"Type!" Tharn went to help him down but stopped himself. His hands were out, ready to catch him.

"No, no." Type waved him away. "I can do this. I got myself up here alone anyway."

"Baby, I'll do the 24 hours, I promise." Tharn said in a panic. "Just let me help you down first, please."

"Nope. No way." Type set his hands and looked down. "It's not that far. If I fall I'll be okay."

"Type!"

"Okay here we go." Type took a breath.

"Ai'Type!" Tharn was right there, still not touching as Type jumped down from the counter. "Fuck!"

Type landed a little wobbly but was perfectly fine. He straightened himself out and smiled. "See I told you I could do it-- wait did you just say fuck?" Type smiled. Tharn never cussed. Ever. "This is gonna be a long 24 hours for you."

Tharn sighed and nodded. "Yes."

Type went over to the other side of the counter and grabbed his gear bag. "Where's our room again? Oh yeah, up the stairs. Do you wanna help me out Tharn or-- oh wait. You can't."

Tharn groaned. "Can't you just yell at me again?"

"Nope. I like this much better." Type smiled as he walked out of the kitchen. He made sure to hand Tharn his bag before he left. Their hands didn't meet.

Tharn followed him out absolutely dreading the next 24 hours not being allowed to touch Type.

///

"What's this?" Type said quietly to himself.

He had just come back with the mail. There was a strange looking letter mixed with all of their regular mail.

He went over to the family room where Tharn was waiting for him. Sitting, not on their sofa, but on the single cushion chair beside the sofa.

Tharn sat up when Type reentered the room. He watched as Type went through their mail, completely passing him by to sit alone on the couch.

Type, to sit down, had to drop the letters on the coffee table in front of him. Put his hand on the back of the couch first and slowly lower himself down without Tharn's help.

Tharn frowned. Watching Type work without him was awful.

"How long has it been?" Tharn whined.

Type chuckled. "Not long enough, it's barely noon. Nine more hours."

Tharn groaned letting his head fall back. "Baby I miss holding you." Tharn whined. He looked over at Type. "Last night was torture. I wanted to pull you in close and cuddle with you, and kiss you goodnight. Don't you miss me, Ai'Type?"

"You're sitting right there. How can I miss you properly if you're not gone?" Type questioned. But he did miss Tharn.

Truth be told this 24 hours thing was hard on him too. He wanted to feel those strong arms around him again. He wanted Tharn to cuddle him last night too, like he always did. He wanted Tharn to kiss him again.

But Tharn fucked up. And this was his punishment.

"Oh look." Type held up that weird letter he saw. Reading it's addresses. "It's from P'San." Type laughed. He actually sent an apology letter. Type opened it and read it quietly to himself.

"He must have dropped it off this morning.” Tharn surmised. There’s no way the mail was that fast. Tharn saw Type pull a face. “What does it say?" He asked.

"He's asking you to forgive him." Type frowned. "He addressed it to you."

"Oh." Tharn didn't know what to say. He had specified apologizing to both of them last night when he sent P'San out.

Type sighed, took a picture of the letter with his phone and sent the picture to Tharn. "There. Have fun."

Tharn looked at his messages. "Why can't you just hand me the letter?"

Type shook his head. "Hold on I need to get something."

Type slowly pushed himself up. Tharn squirmed in his chair. "Baby, you can still ask me to get you stuff. Stop moving around so much please."

"I'm not helpless Tharn. I'm fat." Type rolled his eyes as he set his hand on his bump.

"You're so beautiful, baby." Tharn sighed. "Let me hold again, please?"

"Nope." Type walked out of the family room with the letter.

"My wife." Tharn groaned.

Type chuckled slightly as the words followed him out.

He walked to the kitchen on a mission and grabbed the lighter from the celebration drawer upon entry. He went over to the stove and grunted as he bent down to grab a small pan. He also grunted as he hoisted himself back up with the pan in tow.

He turned on the stove's fan to prepare for the smoke, and set the pan on a burner.

He opened up the letter, set it neatly in the pan, words facing Type, and set the corner on fire.

He took out his phone and began recording the flames as they burned the letter alive. "Thank you for the letter P'!" Type said happily as he watched it burn. He recorded the entire thing waiting till the last corner died.

He promptly hummed in satisfaction setting down his phone and dumping the ashes out in the trash can. He put the lighter back in the right drawer and the pan in the sink for later cleaning.

He then grabbed his phone out again and sent the video to P'San.

"That should do it." Type smiled to himself.

Type walked through Tharn's office, to get to the family room, when something in the office stopped him. There was a callander set up on the wall that had Tharn and Types schedules posted on it.

In two days, there was a note that said "Ultrasound!!" circled twice in blue and pink ink.

Type smiled when he saw the note. He couldn't wait to learn the gender of their baby. It was one of the first things he'd asked about those months ago at the doctors office.

His hands ran over the bump again, soothingly. "Soon, little one." Type promised quietly.

Soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note to clear things up: P'San really didn't mean to offend Type so much. He was just playing around. He likes Type. He especially likes messing with him. Sorry if he pissed you off haha.
> 
> Also, Also. In other news. I dropped two hints in this fic about the baby's gender. Idk if I'm going to write the gender reveal, and just in case I don't, I still wanted you guys to know.
> 
> Anyway thank you for reading! <3
> 
> IMPORTANT EDIT!! Everyone say thank you to Riadanian for the bonus part of the chapter hidden in the comments! Thank you Riadanian for supporting me! Hope you like it! <3


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